


Family

by LittleDarkling



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Kink Meme, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDarkling/pseuds/LittleDarkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is expectant and cranky, Steve is sweet and doting. Mostly fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel. This is a work of fan love. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
> 
>    
> A/N: Based on this prompt from the Thor Kinkmeme: http://norsekink.livejournal.com/7418.html?thread=15200250#t15200250  
> Basically, a happy mpreg.

 

 

 

 

It is still dark when Steve wakes. The mansion is quiet and still, the only sound the low hum of the ceiling fan. He reaches out a hand, but finds that his bed is lacking the presence of another body. The balcony doors are ajar, a pale band of moonlight spilling across the white carpet. Steve glances at the clock, blinking blurrily.  Just past two. With a tired sigh, he rolls out of bed and tugs on a pair of boxers before joining his mate outside. 

 

The night is cool, the first bite of autumn frost settling over the city. It makes Steve shiver, goose bumps rising over his arms. It is chilly for him, but not for Loki, who has had some difficulty regulating his temperature in these final months. He seeks out the cold, going so far as to curl himself into the chest freezer in the basement on warmer days. Bruce and the healers have assured Steve it will do no harm. If anything, it is good for them.

 

“I did not mean to wake you,” Loki says quietly.

 

“You didn’t,” Steve replies, voice still rough. “Are you ok?” The trickster inhales a deep breath.

 

“I am fine. You need not worry, husband.” 

 

“You shouldn’t be up…” Steve murmurs, laying a hand on top of Loki’s. The trickster’s long fingers move gracefully to entwine with his. Steve savors these subtle affections, more so because they are not in Loki’s nature, but are offered because they make him happy. Smiling, he curves his other hand over his mate’s belly, over skin stretched smooth and taut. At his touch their child shifts, as wakeful as her father it seems. Loki exhales a breath, gripping Steve’s hand tightly, grateful for the solid weight of his partner’s body against his.

 

“She’s restless,” Steve observes, rubbing soothing circles over Loki’s belly. The trickster nods; his grasp on Steve’s hand relaxes, though their fingers remain tangled.

 

“Her time is near. She is anxious to be in the world,” he replies. Steve brushes aside the dark fall of Loki’s hair to kiss his throat.

 

“Come back to bed,” he whispers, the heat of his breath against the trickster’s skin inspiring a pleasurable shiver. 

 

“I cannot. She is not satisfied to simply lie still tonight.” Steve lifts Loki’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

 

“I’ll keep her occupied. Come back to bed.”

 

 

Steve’s large, warm hands support his body, helping him ease back onto the mattress, as he is hardly able to lie back on his own without flopping over like an upturned turtle. Loki loathes this new vulnerability, this constant fatigue. In the beginning, he had felt entirely invincible. Magic surging through him, a potent swell of power as his body adapted to protect the new life forming within. It was almost like being a child again, re-discovering his abilities. Exhilarated, Loki had directed his energy toward the simple pleasure of creating mischief for mischief’s sake. No real damage or harm done, just little spots of chaos to annoy the Avengers and frustrate SHIELD.  

 

He’d filled Tony’s pool with chocolate pudding (while he was doing laps). Bruce’s bathroom scale read ‘Too Fucking Fat’ instead of his weight, though Loki maintained that was an absolutely honest assessment…well, at least some of the time. Inspired by a Midgardian children’s toy, he had turned various cabinets, closets and appliances in the mansion into giant jacks-in-the-box; including a closet in one of the upstairs bathrooms, causing Clint to run wet and naked through the halls one morning, screaming about giant clowns trying to kill him. Attacks on Fury’s sanity were always enjoyable, so Loki sent blue thongs embroidered with ‘Property of Nick Fury’ and a handwritten note from the director to multiple male SHIELD agents and several military officials. And it was more whimsy than mischief that inspired him to bring an entire toy store to life and watch as hundreds of toys—teddy bears, various stuffed animals, dolls and action figures—flooded the streets. It was hardly his most inspired work, but being able to watch his idiot brother chase after a small, action figure version of himself was quite worth it. Steve had not approved, but the fact that he did not chide Loki suggested he was somewhat amused too.

Loki had been thoroughly enjoying himself, but he was not so foolish to think it would last.  A half-human child meant enduring a lengthier gestation than is normal for Jötunn. Asta has absorbed much of his magic as she has grown. In this last month, he has felt considerably weakened, exhausted, and barely able to manage even the simplest spells. So close to her due date, his daughter requires more of his strength and powers, and it has left him feeling frustratingly…human. 

 

Steve begins to draw the blankets over him, but Loki catches his hand.

 

“Too warm….” he mumbles.

“Ok.” Steve tugs them down again until they are bunched below his hips. “Is there anything you need?”

 

“No,” Loki replies. He grunts, shifting uncomfortably as their little one, ever eager, kicks again. She is strong, there is no denying that. Tony had described her as ‘Part Avenger, part sorcerer, all BAMF’.  (Natasha had promptly kicked Tony’s chair out of from under him for using profanity in front of the baby.) This time her movement makes Loki wince and he is unable to restrain a soft gasp of pain. It is too much to hope it goes unnoticed. 

 

“Loki,” Steve says worriedly, placing a large hand on the trickster’s forehead, thumb brushing tenderly over the crease in his brow.

 

“I told you, she is not content to be still,” he manages through gritted teeth. Steve curves both hands over his mate’s distended stomach, brushing his lips over the soft, stretched skin. 

 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. “I know you’re getting impatient, but your father needs his rest.” He lays his head lightly against Loki’s belly, listening. He is certain he can hear her tiny heart, beating in time with Loki’s. The past few months have passed in a haze. Like a dream, strange and wondrous.  What he has now, is far more than he had ever hoped for. After he lost Peggy, Steve had accepted that the responsibility he had undertaken would be at the sacrifice of a home and family of his own. But it seemed fate or destiny, or perhaps just plain luck, had other ideas. In weaker moments he fears that he is asleep, still trapped in the ice and he will wake to a lonely reality in which his husband and daughter do not exist. He and Loki started out as bitter enemies and somehow, despite countless hurts, so much mistrust and suffering, they have to come to this moment. The love of this beautiful, mercurial, wounded prince was hard won and he cannot imagine a life without— 

 

“Husband, I cannot rest when you are brooding so loudly,” Loki says. Steve smiles slightly and lifts his head to look at the trickster. Loki is watching him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation,  green eyes luminous in the faint light.

 

“Sorry,” he chuckles, leaning in to steal a kiss. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get Bruce—” Loki growls in annoyance.

 

“I do not need your great elf.” Steve sighs quietly.

 

“I would prefer you didn’t call him that.”

 

“Why not? He is green…and elf-like,” Loki mutters. The Avenger shakes his head, smiling at his husband’s dour expression.

 

“You’re cranky,” he observes. The trickster frowns at that. So what if he is? He’s tired of being so damn dependent on others. On Steve, on Bruce, on Thor. On _Thor_. He’d rather be dependent on a goat. Still, it is unkind to snap at Steve. It is not his fault and he has been exceedingly patient. 

 

When they decided to have a child, Steve had asked only one indulgence—that he be allowed to care for Loki during the pregnancy. Care for, mind you, not coddle. The trickster had agreed, assuming that it was only natural for human males to be protective of their mates when they were in this condition. And it was easier to acquiesce than have Steve hounding him like a…well, a certain dimwitted Thunder God. 

 

Confrontations with Thor have been numerous since Loki revealed he was with child. Exuberance at being an uncle seemed to mingle with a deep-seated fear that something terrible might happen to Loki if he were out of the Avengers’ sights for even a moment. Given Loki’s rather impressive list of enemies, this wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility, but acknowledging his brother could be right about something would set a bad precedent. 

 

It was difficult enough accepting Steve’s constant concern, but Thor was typically brazen and tactless, following after Loki and questioning every action, every spell and minor mischief. Was it safe for him? Was it safe for the child? Was he eating enough? If Loki’s step faltered, Thor called for Bruce. If Loki coughed, he called for Bruce. If Loki sighed too loudly, he called for Bruce. He had gone so far as to summon healers from Asgard when he was not satisfied with the physicist’s answer. In fact, the only time he didn’t call for Bruce or the healers was when Loki was trying to hurt him. 

 

The trickster’s annoyance had manifested in bouts of violence that included flinging his brother into walls and through windows, even shoving him off the second story balcony. On one occasion, he had had turned Thor into a rat and brought a feral cat into the mansion. Loki had blithely consumed a plate of pancakes drenched in chocolate syrup while he watched the beast chase his brother around and around. That had provided some novel entertainment, which continued once the others returned. Thor ran up Clint’s leg in an attempt to get away from the cat, resulting in the archer trying to detach a yowling cat from his thigh and a large blond rat from his head. Loki only changed Thor back at Steve’s behest. 

 

Unfortunately, as weak as his powers are now, he cannot even use magic against the oaf. Even more maddening, Asta recognizes her uncle and she _likes_ him. When Loki is trying to read, Thor will lounge beside him and speak to her, prattle on about Asgard, ancient battles of the Aesir and boast of his own exploits until the younger prince hits him with the book to shut him up. It’s very frustrating.

 

 

Loki sighs deeply, watching the play of moonlight and shadow on the ceiling.

 

“I am simply tired of being so… inept,” he confesses.

 

“You are hardly inept,” Steve replies, carding his fingers gently through his mate’s black hair. The prince scoffs.

 

“No? I could not even dent the wall with my brother’s head last night.” The Avenger’s eyes crinkle, though he does not laugh. Loki has been without his magic before, and for one who was born with it, the loss is akin to losing a limb or vital organ. This, thankfully, is a temporary symptom, but he can empathize with his husband’s frustration. 

 

“Well, I’m certain Tony was happy about that. You haven’t been too kind to the mansion these past few months.”

 

“He can blame Thor,” Loki replies.

 

“You can’t fault him for being a big brother,” Steve says patiently. “It’s no less than I would do if it was one my siblings. He’s only trying to look after you and this beautiful, brilliant girl here.” He rubs his hand gently over Loki’s belly for emphasis.

 

“I am capable of caring for my offspring and myself without him lumbering about after me,” the trickster grumbles petulantly.

 

“Are you willing to concede that’s not exactly true at the moment?” Steve’s mouth twitches, trying and failing to hide a smile at the glare that Loki gives him. “That’s not nearly as threatening as you think it is.”

 

“I should make you sprout a tail,” he mutters.

 

“You can try.” Loki looks at him steadily, mouth drawing into a stiff line of displeasure.

 

“You’re amused by this,” he accuses.

 

“I’m amused by you,” Steve admits, fingers brushing gently over Loki’s cheek, his nose and lips.

 

“Don’t think I won’t remember this once your daughter has returned my powers,” he scowls.

 

“You’ll be too busy to remember,” Steve says assuredly. 

 

“You keep thinking that, human.”

 

“Oh, I will…trickster,” he smirks and kisses the prince softly. “I love you.” Loki looks up, into the guileless blue eyes that gaze upon him with such open affection. His mate, his husband…and still, sometimes his foe. They are not always on the same side. They still meet in battle occasionally and it is still fierce. Steve does not begrudge him his mischief and he has not pushed him to give up his villainy to join the Avengers. Though he does not hide his pride on those occasions when Loki fights alongside them, which usually happens when he is bored or when he is concerned that Steve could be harmed. His mate is unwilling to resort to dishonorable tactics in battle, even if they will save his life; Loki’s moral code in a fight is more flexible.

 

For Steve, Loki ensures no innocents are harmed and he tries to keep damage to a minimum. Even when they are adversaries, Loki will catch Steve’s gaze across the battlefield, and when he smiles, Steve smiles back. Loki has come to delight in returning to the mansion after a fight, under cover of darkness, and slipping into their bed. Always, Steve will turn over and slide an arm around him, dragging him close. It is both a wonderful and terrifying thing, to be loved and accepted unconditionally. 

 

His eyes flicker to the ring on Steve’s hand, a twin to the one that hangs around Loki’s neck. They are bound in word, and now, in blood.

 

Loki slips his fingers into Steve’s disheveled blond hair, drawing him down into another kiss, this one slow and lingering. Steve groans softly, hand slipping down to curve around Loki’s hip. The trickster exhales a sharp breath, laying a hand on his stomach as Asta makes another abrupt movement. Steve places a hand over his.

 

“Shhhh…” he murmurs against Loki’s lips. He rubs gentle circles over his belly. “Patience, angel. Let me have your father to myself just a bit longer.” Asta settles once more, soothed by her father’s touch and the sound of his voice. Loki can feel her contentment, though it does not diminish her impatience. 

 

“You need to rest,” Steve says, lips brushing Loki’s cheek. “Why don’t I read to her? It’ll keep her happy and you can sleep.” He reaches back, snagging the book of nursery rhymes that had been a gift from Coulson. Loki smiles tiredly, fingers brushing the line of his Steve’s jaw.

“You will be a good father to our children,” he murmurs. The Avenger’s smile could light all of Midgard.

 

“ _Our_ _children_.” His fingers flex possessively against Loki’s stomach. “I assume that means you want more than one?” Loki nods. Indeed he does.  It is a singular experience, the feeling of a life, tiny and vulnerable, taking form within his body, another conscious meeting with his own. She is already the best of her fathers. His connection to Steve has been as powerful as his connection to Asta. He has known Steve’s mind and body as though they are his own, felt the nervous elation of a new father, moments of secret amusement at Loki’s more harmless pranks and the fierce love he has for both of them. It is not that Loki doubts him, but to feel it, to share in it, to _know_ that he is loved, that his child is loved…  He wants this again.

“Are you happy, husband?” Steve asks softly.

 

“I am.” It always surprises him when the truth comes easily.

 

 

 

End


End file.
